Bones made of feathers
Bones weighing me down
Skin made of tatters
Waves making me drown
Heart made of glass
The water rushing in
Lungs black and polluted
Smoke drifting in the sea
Eyes are open but the light is gone
The dim sun taunting me from above
My body falls heavy to the bottom
And the surface seems so out of reach
One last heaving breath
And all motions cease to be
YOU ARE READING
serendipity
Poetryserendipity; ser·en·dip·i·ty (n.) : finding something good without looking for it. A collection of poems and short stories.
